Three Years and a Bottle of Whisky
by Kristina Marie
Summary: On the Anniversary of the Force's arrival, they celebrate?


Thanks once again to Ms. Wells for the Beta. I _really_ want to know what you think of this one . . . so leave a quick note!

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What can I say about this? Things started in one direction, and then, well, oops?

At any rate, I (somewhat) proudly present:

**THREE YEARS AND A BOTTLE OF WHISKY**

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Rolling over to press the button on the alarm, the pilot sighed as the date and time flashed on the screen. Rubbing his eyes with his hands, the man sighed again and heaved himself to his feet and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Usually efficient in the shower, the man found himself letting the water beat down on his neck and shoulders as the last three years of fighting went through his head. Three years ago to the day, they had arrived on this planet in a stolen Doom ship after escaping from the dungeons. Looking down at himself, the pilot looked at the scars crisscrossing his body. New scars overlapped older ones in a patchwork of uneven lines. The most recent stood out bright white against the backdrop of his tanned skin.

Three years. A blink of time. An eternity.

Berating himself over his meanderings, the man finished his shower with more of his normal efficiency, shaved, dressed, and went to the breakfast room.

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At the breakfast room, the normal craziness of the morning reigned. Hunk ate quickly and efficiently, trying to eat enough in the small amount of time before practice to sustain him until the mid-morning repast. He had small comments to insert into the conversation here and there, almost predictable, but always well-timed and humorous.

Pidge had grown in the last three years, and at 19 had started his last growth spurt. He tore through the pile of food on his plate and quickly returned for seconds. The people of his planet pushed the upper limits for humans, and Dr. Gorma predicted he would stabilize around six-foot six or seven. Nanny complained about having to remake his clothes constantly, but she said it with a smile. As Allura had grown into herself as a pilot and a ruler, Nanny found herself at loose ends, acting more as a Castellan and less as a companion or nursemaid. She enjoyed fussing over Pidge and, although she would not admit it, had a soft spot for the young man. For Pidge, she became the grandma or older aunt figure he had lost when Zarkon had destroyed his planet.

Allura dominated the conversation talking about what she wanted to accomplish that day and which towns she would visit tomorrow. She wanted the monarchy (meaning her) to have high-visibility to the people and give them access to tell her their needs directly. The princess liked to talk about transparency in government, the need for input from the populace, and high accountability.

Keith talked quietly with Lance about the security needs and quickly checked in with Castle Control to see if the newly placed long-distance satellites had picked up any ships approaching Arus. He managed to make the appropriate comments to the princess about her goals for the day while also trying to keep her itinerary reasonable.

As breakfast wound down, Keith cleared his throat and stood. He gestured to one of the servants who brought a box to the table and placed it in front of Keith. "Today marks the third anniversary of when we arrived on Arus. At the behest of Garrison and the Princess, I have requested and received the following items." Opening the box before him, he pulled out plaques and small boxes. "I am pleased to present each of you with promotions in rank and recognition from both Arus and Earth for the fine work accomplished here. He walked the plaques to each of the men, shaking their hands with appropriate gravity and pinning on their new insignia. The men accepted with grave dignity their due and stepped back to salute their commander as appropriate.

After breakfast, Coran claimed Allura to attend some meetings and the rest of the force went to the rec room. As the door closed, Lance tossed the plaque carelessly onto the table where it landed with a loud clang. "Man, Keith, were you trying to make me laugh? Seriously, what was with the eye rolling and crossed eyes?"

A second and third clang joined the first. "Yeah, what gives, bossman?" Pidge added in a low baritone as he grabbed a chair and straddled it backward with his arms crossed loosely on the back.

Grinning, Keith sat on the couch, arms behind his head, right ankle resting on his left knee. "Like you _don't_ think a bunch of plaques and insignia mean diddly shit?"

The three responded with laughter. Hunk pulled the insignia off his shoulder and tossed them onto the table with the plaques. "Three years, today, ya know? It rather sucks. Stuck in the back of beyond in a backwards society, fighting the same battle with small variations, and no end in sight." Hunk flopped down bonelessly onto the largest chair in the room, and stretched his arms above his head. "You think after all this time, Lotor would get the idea. Stupid rule about Voltron not attacking, though. It would make life much easier just to go blast the damn planet and give ourselves some breathing room."

A murmur of agreement went through the room. As they started discussing the ways to make an attack feasible, Lance went to one of the cupboards and poured four tumblers full of a light colored drink. Handing out the drinks, he lifted his glass high, "To Lotor getting a clue and finally returning to the land of burgers and shakes!"

"Here, here!"

Glasses clinked and the contents of them dropped drastically.

"Man, did you have to mention burgers?"

"To Lotor falling in a dung heap, head first!"

"Huzzah!"

"To Haggar finally landing Zarkon!"

"To Haggar!"

As the morning continued, the glasses emptied and refilled many times as the crew marked the beginning of their fourth year on Arus.

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The alarm bells rang loudly in the room. Four rather inebriated men looked at each other and then the glasses. "To alarm bells!" One shouted.

"To alarm bells!"

Four glasses slammed down on the table, and the men hurried out of the room, staggering slightly, to the control room. As they entered, the screen showed a monstrous RoBeast approaching one of the mountain cities and a fleet of doom ships providing support.

Keith sighed, rolled his eyes, and motioned to the other three. "All for one!" He shouted.

"And one for all!" Came the slightly slurred reply. In the stunned silence following the pronouncement, only a hiccup from Pidge broke the quiet. Activity in the room stopped for a moment as the occupants looked at the drunken explorers.

"Keith, what. ." Allura began before he interrupted her.

"No time for that. To the lions!" Grinning, the commander jumped into his launch tube, nearly missing the bar. "Oops!"

Snickers from the rest of the drunken men left the room in greater shock. Then one by one they jumped onto their bars and disappeared into their lions, each shouting a rambling sentence.

"To infinity and beyond!"

"Remember the Alamo!"

"Gentlemen prefer blonds!"

The occupants of the control room exchanged stunned and confused glances. Finally the princess walked to her launch tube, pausing to look back at the room. Coran shrugged at her. Allura sighed, grabbed the bar and disappeared from view.

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Coran found himself at a rare loss for words. Obviously the four pilots had spent the morning consuming vast amounts of alcohol, but in three years, he had never known _all_ of them to drink themselves drunk at the same time. He watched the fighting nervously. They retained their skills, although they had no formations and Keith did not call out battle maneuvers in his normal manner. In the midst of the battle, he watched the group perform barrel rolls, loop-de-loops, and all manner of carnival tricks. He tried to communicate with the four of them only to have Keith suddenly appear on the screen.

"Yo, Coran!"

"Keith, I have to express serious concern over the state of…"

"Sorry, Coran, no time to talk, biiiig ass RoBeast out here and all. So, can you stop interrupting, please? Lance! Leapfrog!"

"Whoo hoo, Captain. Pidge, Hunk, you in?"

"Totally! Leap frog!"

"You have to ask?"

Coran tried again, "Captain, please."

Keith turned back with a grin, "Sorry, Coran. Leap frog. Gotta go!"

With that the visuals turned black. Coran slumped back in his chair and watched the rest of the battle feeling utterly dumbfounded.

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"Form Blazing Sword."

From Lance, the sound of a light saber igniting accompanied the movement. He then began imitating the sound of Darth Vader's breathing. "Feel the power of the Lion Side."

The three men sniggered and began quoting lines from various movies and cult classics.

After several more lines, Keith took a breath through his laughter, "Ok, ok. Let's slice and dice, let Lotor have his little rant, rescue the princess, and go back for seconds!"

Allura tried to interrupt, insulted by the insinuation Lotor _always _captured her, but found she could not get a word in edgewise.

"Go, Keithy baby, go!"

"How about some cake and cookies? I'm hungry."

"Pidge you are worse than Hunk these days!"

"Hey, I am a growing boy!"

In the midst of the discussion, Keith casually sliced the robot and then called for the lions to separate and return.

As Keith predicted, Lotor took the moment to hit the Blue Lion with some sort of weapon which sent a pulse through the lion, shorting out systems.

Lance opened a private line to the other three, "Ok, cue screaming!"

"Aaaaaahhhhh. Help me! My lion is not responding."

The four men could not help their laughter.

"Now the panic and the frantic calls for help," chimed in Pidge.

"Help me! What do I do?"

"Keith, time to calm her until she crashes. . ." Hunk laughed.

"Stop it guys, how can I play the part when I am laughing so hard? Okay, okay!" Keith took a couple breaths and then added Allura to the conversation. "Relax, princess. Try ignoring what Pidge tells you to do to restart the lion, push random buttons, and then crash. Oh! Do not forget to fall unconscious so Lotor can pull you out and I can rescue you at the last moment, ok? Pidge?"

Only snickers greeted Keith's pronouncement and faint spluttering from the princess as anger robbed her of speech.

Pidge took a deep grasping breath, "Dude, totally on the mark. Whew! Ok, princess, seriously, just press the reset button located to the lower left of your key and ini *hic* ini *hic* initiate restart sequence. *hic*"

"Whoa, little buddy, had a wee too much to drink then?"

"No. *hic* I could go a few more rounds." He paused looking thoughtful, "After lunch. *hic*"

"Pidge, what reset, I am trying to find it."

Keith opened up visuals in the blue lion and the four men started roaring with laughter to see her frantically pushing buttons missing the reset button every time. Allura paused to look at the men. She sat straight up and responded to their laughter in her most royal and haughty of voices, "What, _exactly_, do you gentlemen find so funny?"

The four of them just laughed harder. The princess glanced at her monitors, and let out little scream as her lion crashed and then bounced once before coming to rest. The rest of the force watched as she hit her head and fell unconscious.

"Cue, Lotor!"

Swooping in like a bird of prey in his custom designed craft, Lotor jumped down to pull the unconscious princess out of the Blue Lion and start toward his craft.

"Ok, Keithy baby, do your stuff!"

Sniggering, Keith made a dramatic entrance, landing his lion to stand over Lotor's craft, blocking it from the prince. Over the loud speakers he shouted to him, "Unhand the princess vile beast, you will never escape!"

Forgetting to turn off the loud speakers, he turned back to the other three men, "Cheesy enough?"

"Nah, Keith, you need some other _really_ cheesy line like evil will never triumph over good or a bold, noble statement," Lance replied.

"Can you just hurry Keith, I really want lunch."

"I agree with Pidge, Keith. Just run the bastard through, rescue the princess so we can get back to lunch and more drinking."

"Okay, okay! Just give me a sec, I know I have a bottle in here somewhere." Keith disappeared from the view screen only to appear a minute later on the top of the lion with a bottle in one hand and a blaster in the other. With a distinct lack of grace, he nearly fell to the ground as he dismounted from the lion. Taking a quick drink, he waved the blaster toward Lotor, who had stopped and just stared at his hated enemy with a look of shock on his face. "Stop, you foul creature and unhand the princess, I, Keith, commander of the Voltron force, demand you leave to never return at your own peril." He grinned at Lotor and gave a thumbs-up to the other Lions hovering nearby.

"The princess shall be mine! Do not interfere. . ." Lotor trailed off as Keith put down the bottle to open and close his hand miming speaking.

"Blah, blah, blah, conquer Arus, blah, blah, blah, princess. Dude, you so need to see a Swedish Masseuse, long blond hair, great hands. When they finish, you will not have an aggressive bone in your body, hell, you may just turn into a pile of mush." Keith waved the blaster in Lotor's general direction as he spoke. "They give these deep massages," as the drunken pilot continued, a shot erupted from the blaster, causing Lotor to stumble backward, nearly dropping the princess "Oops, sorry about that."

Lotor's mouth opened and closed a few times, before he set the princess down behind him and moved his hand toward his hip. He jumped sideways as another blast came near his feet. He looked up to see Keith waving his forefinger back and forth, "Ah, ah ah. Do not even think about it. Just step forward nice and slowly before I forget I am supposed to be the hero of the piece and just shoot you out of hand. Oh, and put your hands where I can see them." Without taking his eyes off Lotor, Keith reached down to retrieve the bottle and take a swig. As Lotor came closer, Keith tossed the bottle toward the prince, "Catch!"

Reflexively the other man grabbed the bottle out of the air, looking suspiciously at Keith the entire time. "Drink up, and have a seat. The boys and I decided we needed to have a little chat." The Black Lion pilot gestured Lotor toward a nearby rock and settled himself down on a second rock nearby. "Come, come, drink! You will like it, I promise."

Suspiciously, Lotor raised the bottle to his mouth and swallowed. His eyebrows rose in surprise as the smooth liquid filled his senses and slipped down toward his belly leaving a pleasant warmth behind.

Nodding, Keith smiled, "Lance discovered this little gem about a month ago in the little valley just over the hill. We felt a little perturbed today when your RoBeast wandered that direction. If anything happened to that woman's distillery, well, our wrath would know no bounds. Hell, it has made this last month here less dreary and monotonous." He paused to scratch his head with the blaster, "'Course, we also have had a little more than normal today, being the day and all."

Lotor took another drink, keeping an eye on the pilot, looking for an opportunity to grab the princess and go, but curious as to the peasant's purpose in talking. "What day would that be, human?" He sneered.

"Today? Why only the third anniversary of the day we landed on this back-of-beyond backwards little gem of a planet." With a grimace, Keith pulled a flask from his belt, uncapped it and took a swig. Gesturing expansively with the bottle, spilling a few drops, "The beginning of the fourth year stuck in this pastoral setting serving a blond, blue-eyed bimbo with and IQ of a cat in heat and a stuffy advisor from straight out of the middle ages."

Fascinated with this side of a pilot he considered beneath him, Lotor took another drink of the marvelous liquid and smiled, "Oh, and why don't you just leave if the planet is not to your liking?"

"Just a sec." Keith pushed a button on his collar, "Yeah? Oh, of course, c'mon down and take her to Gorma. Y'all can deal with her hysterics for once." He paused, listening, "'Cause I am the commander that's why." A shorter pause followed, "I will not tell you where I hid the rest of the case." A smile followed the pronouncement, "Thought so. Kogane out." He settled back against the rock, blaster on his knee looking at Lotor. "Where were we? Oh yes, why don't we leave?" He sighed, taking another nip from his flask. "Politics. So, you know how you have this string of victories and then suddenly you cannot conquer one little planet and then dear old dad treats you like an imbecile?"

Growling, Lotor took a deeper pull on the bottle, and then startled as Hunk appeared behind him holding the princess. "Boss, you gonna be long?"

Keith shrugged, "Depends on Blue Boy here. Just take Allura back and ask one of the girls, not Nanny, for lunch. I will be back as soon as I can."

The large man nodded, threw the princess in a fireman's carry, and humped her back to his lion, sitting a football field length away.

Lotor watched the proceedings, fuming at losing the princess once again, but prevented from acting by the weapon pointed, once again, directly at him. Raising the bottle to his lips, he let a stream fall into his mouth swallowing his disappointment at Keith _once again_ outwitting him. "Blue boy?" He shouted, "I am the crown prince of Doom, destroyer of worlds, conqueror of galaxies, a name feared throughout this quadrant, you will speak to me with respect you sorry excuse for a genetically mutated monkey."

Laughter burst out from the man sitting across from him, inflaming Lotor's anger further.

"Genetically mutated monkey," the man laughed so hard, the words came out high and squeaky. Against his will, Lotor found a smile starting to form on his lips. For some reason, he could not stop himself from finding the humor in the situation.

After long seconds, the pilot took a breath and raised his hand to his eyes, wiping them. Lowering his weapon, he stood and walked over toward the prince, hand out, "Truce, at least until the whisky runs out?"

Lotor looked at the bottle in his hand, the extended hand of the pilot, and then back at the whisky. "Truce, then."

The pilot sat on the ground, legs stretched out in front of him, gesturing for the prince to follow suit. Cautiously, Lotor imitated the stance. The black-haired man raised his flask, "To great whisky made by an ancient old crone in the next valley."

"To great whisky." The bottle clinked against the flask and both men took a deep draft.

Neither spoke for some time. Lotor began to feel mellow, an unfamiliar and rather uncomfortable feeling, but somehow he found himself relaxing, with an inferior, even!

"Lotor, the boys and I have some questions for you. What, _exactly_ do you want from Arus? They have no technology save the lions, no sizeable deposits of natural resources, population too small to justify the taking of slaves, no wealth, Doom does not want the land, nothing we can see here of any worth. Why, then, keep attacking?"

"One can never have too many slaves, and we can always use plants for food production, and of course I want Allura as my wife to bear my sons to continue my lineage."

Keith laughed and mumbled something to himself under his breath. He took another sip of the flask, its false courage bolstering him.

Taking another sip of the bottle, Lotor gestured expansively with his free hand, pausing in mid-motion to really study it. He waved the hand up and down letting it flop and then grinning, "It looks blurry."

"Lotor, you are drunk!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"I cannot become drunk on the puny drinks of this planet."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Try and walk a straight line!"

Standing, the Doom prince found himself staggering slightly and a wave of dizziness passed through his head. "Whoa."

"See? Told ya. The old dame makes some potent stuff."

"I feel . . . good . . . which for me is rather odd. Does this drink have a name?"

"Nope. We have debated and just call it the Dame's Nectar for now. Kind of like Earth whisky, but so much better!"

"So inferior Earthling pilot, what did you say about my precious Allura?"

"You are not going to like it."

"As though anything you could say could damper my ardor for her."

"Blech, by the way. So, what exactly do you like about Allura?"

"Her beauty, her innocence, her spirit which does not break no matter how hard people try."

As Lotor spoke, Keith tried not to laugh, but finally a big belly laugh erupted.

The prince stood abruptly, putting his hand to his hip.

"You dare impugn my dearest love?"

Keith waved his hands to make Lotor sit. "Cry peace, man. Cry peace."

Disgruntled, Lotor sat and took another drink.

"Ok, first of all, you should see the princess in the morning. Scary."

"What do you mean?"

"See, you see her when she has taken time to dress, put on her make-up, and do her hair. Under that mask, well let's just say, Haggar could use her as a model for her RoBeasts."

"My love could never look so!"

"Yeah, the boys and I thought you might say that, so just a sec." Putting down the flask, he pulled a small projector out of his pocket and pressed play.

Lotor watched as the unknown photographer caught her in the morning. Swallowing hard, he took in the visage with hair like a rat's nest, and a face, although not RoBeast worthy, he could reconcile with the great beauty he had come to know.

Keith nodded in a drunken approximation of a wise man. Imagine yourself waking up to THAT in the mornings."

Visibly shuddering, the crown prince of Doom pushed the off button on the device, and took a large swallow of the elixir.

"As to that whole innocence of hers. Technically it may be true, but you should see her collection of how-to books. I pity the poor man who ends up trying to satisfy her."

"My Allura would never do such a thing."

"Oh yeah? Wanna bet?"

"I could never stoop so low as to bet with a commoner."

Keith simply pressed another button on the projector, which panned the princess' room, and then showed a rather large chest, which the photographer opened. Lotor looked repulsed at the collection of books, paraphernalia, and video titles he could see.

"You lie! This could not possibly belong to my precious Allura!"

"Yep, keep telling yourself that, man."

Lotor eyed the bottle, in which the liquid had grown low, taking another judicious sip. "Anything else, whelp?"

"Dude, whelp? That's all you got?"

"Uhhh,"

"Never mind. See why we like this Dame's Nectar?" Shaking his head, Keith returned to the subject at hand. "Anyway, her spirit? Well, in order to have your spirit broken, you need to have some understanding and some intelligence. Girl would not know an original thought if you handed it to her on a plate. I only hope if she breeds someday, the kids inherit the dad's smarts, cause Allura. . ." He trails off and shudders. "Between myself, Nanny, and Coran, we keep her from making any important decisions about the planet, and when we really need something done, we simply present to her already written up waiting for her signature. We have her convinced into being a 'visible monarchy' which means travelling to visit with her people. While she does that, Coran and the governing council make all the real decisions."

Lotor sat digesting the news. Keith moved to turn on the viewer, and Lotor blocked his hand. "I do not think I wish to see more."

Neither man said a word for some time.

The prince drained the last of the bottle, and sat with it dangling between his legs.

"So, the boys and I have a deal for you, Lotor."

"I'm listening."

"See, we have an idea. We know for the interim, we are stuck on this backwards planet. So, we have this plan. If we export Dame's Nectar to other planets, we can generate a lot of income for ourselves; which would lead to new types of businesses that could generate interest in immigrating here. Earth and its colonies have problems with overcrowding, and if we could just modernize this bucolic, pastoral planet we could make living her bearable. Hell, we love flying the lions, but damn! This place makes boring look like fun."

Lotor nodded, "I can appreciate the sentiment. The deal?"

"The deal is, we keep you with a goodly supply of the Nectar, look the other way while you move to pillage other solar systems, and in return, you declare Arus and its princess no longer worth perusing. Hell, marry that Merla woman. She looks good, has great intelligence, and those legs." Smiling, Keith pulls up an image of Merla and next to it puts an image of Allura in the mornings.

A shudder of revulsion runs through the prince of Doom, "You know, you may have a point about the lack of resources and wealth here. We have dumped enormous resources into capturing this planet and the return analysis does not look promising.

Keith advances to another picture of Merla, captured in her sleep clothes, looking over her shoulder at the photographer, an inviting smile on her face. Both men shift to more comfortable positions on the ground at the provocative picture.

"Ten cases a month." 

"No way can we meet those production demands. Two"

"Will not last a week. Eight"

"Be reasonable, until we can mass produce the product that would exceed our capabilities. One per week, with a clause to increase IF needed as production can meet the demand."

"Done."

Keith held out his hand, and Lotor shook it, both men smiling. "So, wanna come back to the castle for a celebratory drink?"

Looking back at the projector, the handsome, white-haired prince shook his head. "I think I have a lady to woo."

Nodding in understanding, the pilot stood and walked mostly steadily toward the lion. Ascending to the cabin, he emerged a moment later, "Lotor!"

The prince looked up and automatically caught the bottle heading for his head. "You almost hit me you cretin!"

"Oops, sorry. Call this a betrothal gift. We will send you the first shipment and a treaty in about a week. Good for you?"

"I look forward to it, space explorer. Now will you move this pile of junk called a fighter so I can return to my planet?"

"You got it, tall, blue, and ugly!"

Lotor cursed the man, but the small smile belied any ill feelings. Cradling the bottle and the projector, he waited until the vehicle launched before unsteadily boarding his own vessel. It took a minute in his inebriated state to initiate the launch sequence. Looking back at the projector, he placed a call.

"Kogane."

"Who exactly, Earthling, took this picture of Merla?"

The man in the screen smirked, "Well, it is _my_ camera, Lotor."

For the first time ever, Lotor roared in laughter.

With a wink, the black lion pilot cut communications.

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End file.
